


And I'll Never Go Home Again

by does_that_scare_you



Series: Christmas, But It's Sad [1]
Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Not Happy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/does_that_scare_you/pseuds/does_that_scare_you
Summary: He never goes to reunions, never goes home for the holidays and never picks up the phone, because he knows that the pain of something familiar would kill him, because he knows that it doesn't feel right without him.
Relationships: Charlie Dalton/Steven Meeks, Chris Noel/Knox Overstreet, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Series: Christmas, But It's Sad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059587
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	And I'll Never Go Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell based on this fanfiction that Christmas depresses me?  
> Update: ENDING EDITED

From time to time, when Todd is bored at work, he enjoys watching the people that the antique facade of the shop lures inside. Imagines who they are, why they have come, or what they do as soon as they leave. It is by far more entertaining than coming to terms with his own life. But slowly, that little game is getting dull as well, considering that it the same old faces that greet him every day.

The sweet Miss Rosier stuck with her younger, shy brother Frank; who attempted suicide after being disowned by their stepfather for coming out. Mr Ortega, a lovely pensioner who buys the same crossword magazines every Wednesday for him and his wife. Jen Foreman - the highschooler that sneaks herself out of the school building every break to visit her 'favourite bookseller' as she likes to state with a wink, but Todd knows that it is because children are cruel and these particular ones constantly drop bricks on Heather's weight. 

It is half-past twelve on a Friday as she gets up from her prefered spot in a corner of the shop and waves him goodbye, tugging in her blouse on the way towards the exit.

"Hey...Heather. Don't do that. You look great just like that."

"Thanks, Mr. Anderson."

Heather smiles in a smart, but sad way and as the bell hanging from the door frame announces her absence, Todd knows that she doesn't believe him and maybe never will. While turns to the pile of freshly arrived boxes behind the front table the bell rings a second time.

"Did you forget your history book again, Heather? I remember Mr Jones being not so pleased about it the last-"

He looked up from his work, realising the person in front of him was not Heather, but a man. A man in a visibly expensive coat and suit, dark blue, combined with a bordeau tie. There was something faintly familiar about his face, like something that got abandoned in the attic a long time ago and is now covered in dust and wrinkles; to an extent that makes it unrecognizable.

"I'm...I'm sorry-I thought you were-"

"It's fine", the man says. Even his voice betrays that neither time nor life treated him kind.

"Well...how can I help you?"

"Christmas presents. For my girl-my daughter."

"How old is she? If I may ask, of course."

"Turned seventeen a few weeks ago."

"Good age. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"So, what does she usually read?"

All of the sudden, the man looks very helpless. "I-well...it's-it's been a while since we two have properly..."

"May I suggest a few works I liked to read at her age, then?", Todd understands and takes lead of the conversation.

The man brings himself to lift the corners of his mouth, the lines in his face deepening.

"Well, follow me if you like."

They follow the red and black pattern of the carpet floor towards the back of the shop and particularly big shelve. With the help of his fingers Todd travels the entire history of poetry within seconds, from Homer to Dante, Blake to Poe.

"Not what I am looking for, but I think every young lady should have at least taken a look at Miss Plath and Miss Dickinson, I recommend 'Lady Lazarus' and 'Hope Is the Thing with Feathers'. No, what searching...ah, there we go."

He traces the figures of the cover almost tenderly.

"Oh, Captain", the man breathes.

"You have read it?"

"Yes-yes. A long time ago though. Back in high school." 

"If you allow, Sir...what high school was it?" 

"Welton Academy, Vermont. Why?"

Coldness creeps up Todd arms; slow, searing and he almost drops Uncle Willy onto the floor. There were eyes on him, the eyes of a lover as he presents his poem in front of the class, the eyes of a predator as he undresses himself, the eyes of a dead boy wide open from the backseat of his father's car.

"Mr...are-are you alright?" 

"Hey, Charlie." 

The man doesn't understand at first, but smiles seconds later, huffing in surprise. 

"Todd! Man, it's you! I didn't...wow! You-you live in Washington now, do you? What the heck are you doing here?" 

Todd shrugs. "I don't know, kind of packed my bags after high school and well...I got carried by the wind, I guess, to", he gestures to the ceiling, "this." 

"Nice place." 

"It's on the verge of ruin, really and it's noticeable. But the owner doesn't have the money for repairs." He sighs. "You live here too?" 

"Oh, no." Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "Just...visiting my daughter. She lives at her grandmother's with my...ex-wife." 

"And I thought you had your way with women, Charlie", Todd says quietly to ease the tension. 

Charlie chuckles humorlessly. "This is different, I guess. She got pregnant in college and we stayed together. Married her, of course, what kind of man would I be if not. All for the sake of Erin." 

"Is that your girl's name?" 

"Yes. Do you want to see a picture of her?" 

"Sure." 

"Charlie took out his wallet and fished a coloured photograph of a little girl, eight to ten years old; with dark hair and eyes, an appearance nothing like Charlie's, but definitely with the smirk of a Dalton. 

"It's certainly not the most current one, but-" 

"She look like you." 

"Really?" 

"Mhm. Her aura. She looks like she's up to something." 

Charlie utters a sound that starts as a laugh, but ends as a dry cough into his coat sleeve. "Have-have you been in touch with the others?", he changed the topic. 

"The others? Oh, right. Well...I've heard not too long that Chris and Knox got finally married." 

That has been in fact five years ago, he even got an invitation, but he couldn't take it. It would only take him back. To the cold, the memories, the dorm all of the sudden so empty after he left. He ignored it, shook it off, because that was the only thing he has managed to do after graduating; running away, shaking it off, forgetting. He never goes to reunions, never goes home for the holidays and never picks up the phone, because he knows that the pain of something familiar would kill him, because he knows that it doesn't feel right without him. 

"I had to work that day. I was behind in my rent." 

"Oh...I'm sorry to hear that." 

"Never mind. I've also heard that Pitts immigrated to Europe." 

"What?! Our Pitts?! No way. Do you know where?" 

"Italy, so I've heard, at least" 

"My god, he gets to flirt with hot signoras down there, while we are here, freezing off our asses." 

"Pretty much, yes", Todd snickered slightly. "What about you?" 

"Meeks and me...we met by coincidence two years after the divorce...he's now English teacher himself, you know? So anyway, we weren't living far away from each other, so we saw each other from time to time and now...we kind of live together. As roommates, just as in high school", he smiled softly, blushing, as if alone Meeks name makes his day brighter. 

Todd can't help but feel a sharp sting of jealousy inside of his chest and spreading quickly like poison. 

"That's...wonderful, Charlie. Really. I'm happy for you two." 

"Thanks." 

They stare at each other for a few seconds. 

"Actually, could you give another copy of Whitman? I already got Meeks something, but you know, I think he would appreciate this anyway. For the students, I mean." 

"Of course. There you go." 

Todd notices with shame how he has already started walking towards the front table again, but Charlie followed him nevertheless. 

"Shall I wrap all of this up?" 

"Yes, please", Charlie coughs again, heavier now. 

"Got yourself a cold, Charlie?", the other man asked while reaching for the wrapping paper. 

"A cold? Well, that would be too nice, wouldn't it? But no, it's cancer. Lung cancer to be specific." 

Todd almost tears the paper apart. 

"What?" 

"You heard me." 

He blinks stupidly at Charlie. "Modern medicine is making a huge progress, there has to be-" 

"It's stage three. Even progress has its limits." 

"But why you? You keep yourself in shape, you drink and smoke, if at all, very little..." 

"Oh Todd, you make me sound as if I was a saint in high school. And even if I was, that was before Neil's death, before fucking Cameron, before the divorce and before that crazy bitch took my little girl, my own flesh and blood from me." 

Todd doesn't know how to answer to that and just passes Charlie the books, pale and mute. 

"It was nice to see you, Todd. You should come visit someday, you know, like in old times?" He takes a pen and a notebook out of his pocket, scribbling his phone number on it and rips the page out. 

Todd takes the note with trembling hands, hating himself for knowing that he will never call. 

Charlie's steps are muffled as he makes his way towards the door, slow and heavy, speaking of a bad back posture.

"Charlie?" 

He turned towards Todd. "Yes?" 

"Merry Christmas, to both Meeks and you." 

The rushed, almost forced eye contact between them, reveals a sort of realisation in Charlie's eyes and for the first time since he has set foot into the book shop, fear with a hint of farewell trembles on his face. 

"Merry Christmas, Todd. Goodbye." 

While the door closes, he hears Charlie dialling a phone number.

"Meeks?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Lorde's 'Buzzcut Season.'


End file.
